A Governess for theDamaged Duke
PREVIEW
Chapter One
“Another governess,” muttered Thaddeus Stanhope, the Duke of Thornvale, as he looked out from the rain-streaked window in his study. He stood motionless as the drops struck against the thick glass in an angry, slapping rhythm.
He could still see the modest hired carriage approaching the estate on the drive below the window. It came to a stop before the front doors and a small, upright figure emerged. She clutched a single valise, which she held in such a way as to tell him that it was ready to fall apart. That was no surprise. Many of these governesses had only accepted this position out of desperation. Then again, they typically were not desperate enough to stay.
She will likely be gone before the week is out, he thought to himself.
The young governess looked up toward the window, which Thaddeus knew to be rather imposing. Her posture was steady against the wind, but she turned back toward the entrance and moved forward.
Thaddeus stepped back into the room’s shadows. That awful and familiar ache thrummed deep behind his right, amber-colored eye. Unwittingly, he put a hand to it, pressing gently. The damaged nerves there protested the falling pressure. The rigid skin under his palm served as a reminder not only of his disfigurement, but of unimaginable loss.
He had no desire to meet the governess yet and knew she would be unlikely to remain once they did meet. It was better to let her settle in and see if she was willing to stay without his presence. Unfortunately, he also knew that it would be unwise to simply leave her to her own devices with Elowen. Some governesses got frustrated immediately with the girl’s inability to engage.
Porter, the manager of the estate, entered the study without a sound. His silent footsteps led him to the desk, where he placed a correspondence. He turned to Thaddeus, awaiting instruction. But Thaddeus merely gave him a curt nod, dismissing Porter from the room.
The increasing pain made Thaddeus short-tempered and the last thing he wanted to deal with was communications with people who were unlikely to ever waste a moment on him. After the first meeting, there was scarcely a second.
Thaddeus poured himself a cup of brandy, the steady rain outside playing like an anthem over his life. The brandy burned as it went down his throat, a welcome distraction from the pain behind his eye, the bitterness in his heart, the certainty that this governess would leave just like all the rest.
Even if she possesses unusual resilience, what true difference can she make? He thought to himself.
Elowen was withdrawing further and further each day, drifting from him like a ghost. The last sole reminder of lives lost. And yet, she needed more from him even as she grew distant. Her sleep was constantly disturbed by nightmares, especially now. As the anniversary grew nearer, they both felt the weight. They both thought of the night when they survived.
Elowen remembered it with the horror of loss. For Thaddeus, it stung with the guilt of survival.
Guilt is the only companion which stays. Guilt for surviving the fire that killed James and Eleanor, for escaping with only these marks while failing them, for being unable to protect Elowen from the memories. Guilt is how I know that I am alive.
It pressed down on him, the burden and the weight of death and failure and flame all turning to ash before his eyes, throbbing as pain behind them.
No, he could not meet the governess today. Today, he lacked the necessary composure for introductions. Mrs. Shelley could manage for now. He would interview Miss Wakefield after she had met Elowen. If she remained, that is.
***
Liliana stepped into the vast, cold entrance hall, taking in the sight of the estate before her, an undercurrent of disgust seething, hidden behind her calm, controlled demeanor. She handed her damp cloak and valise to a footman and ran a hand over her copper up-do to ensure she looked presentable.
Another grand house, another temporary position.
Liliana stood with a straight back. She hoped it would appear strong and dignified, but she had not counted on the fact that people usually just saw it as graceful and feminine. She smoothed her grey traveling dress, a practical choice for a cold journey, as she fought against a shiver running down her spine.
I must do my best. They must see that I am capable. This position is essential and failure…that would mean destitution.
“Miss Wakefield, it is very nice to meet you,” said the housekeeper, Mrs. Shelley. Stiff, yet polite, it was clear that she had a formal, practiced efficiency with which she ran the house. Her hands were folded across her abdomen, her back was straight, and her lips were stretched thin, but her voice held a faint warmth.
Liliana clung to that warmth for a moment, feeling that it was the only sign of life within the estate until now.
Mrs. Shelley led Liliana through the long corridors without another word. Liliana followed, somewhat absentmindedly. She was distracted by the portraits shadowed along the walls, revealing a series of stern-looking noblemen and noblewomen. She could not conceive that any amongst those ladies or gentlemen possessed an overly amiable disposition. “There are a few rules in the house, which are imperative for you to note,” Mrs. Shelley began, tension edging her voice.
Liliana nodded, forgetting that she was behind the housekeeper and her response would go unnoticed in any event.
“His Grace requires absolute quiet near the east wing of the house. This is his private area. You must never approach him unless you are summoned, is that clear?” Mrs. Shelley asked.
“Yes, it is clear,” Liliana replied quietly.
The Beast of Thornvale. That’s what they called him at Trengill House. They had said he was disfigured, someone who shunned company, and prone to rages.
At Liliana’s last post, the whispers were fearful. She had come across a governess who had lasted only three days before departing and a maid who had come to the estate and left the very same hour. Still, Liliana dismissed it all as gossip.
She had dealt with difficult employers before, after all.
Mrs. Shelley paused at a heavy oak door at the end of the hall. Her hesitation was acute and Liliana noticed that the woman seemed to be at war with herself as to whether or not she should speak about something.
“Lady Elowen is within the room,” she began, her voice soft and protective. “I expect you have heard the history of those within this estate. Elowen was only five years old when the fire happened and she has barely spoken in the three years since. She has delicate nerves.”
Liliana nodded; this time being seen directly by Mrs. Shelley.
“Dr. Everett visits regularly,” the housekeeper noted, making it clear that there had been little improvement in the time since he had been coming. “And Miss Fenwick, the nursemaid, attends to all of her physical needs, so that will be of no concern for you.”
“Very well,” Liliana said.
“Your role is Lady Elowen’s education. In all respects, I suppose,” she added. “You will encourage her engagement with life and education in facets outside of her lessons.”
“I understand,” Liliana said, hiding her apprehension at this.
Mrs. Shelley was, evidently, keeping some things held back as well, but Liliana knew that she was not meant to ask further questions.
With that, Mrs. Shelley turned and opened the door to the nursery.
Large, cold, somber. They were the only words that Liliana could conjure to describe the scene before her.
All thoughts of what a nursery ought to be were tossed aside. This was no warm and inviting play room for a child to learn and grow. It was a dark and foreboding room with little to attract or encourage anyone. The drumming of the rain upon the windows only intensified the already considerable gloom.
A young girl of eight years old, with fragile, blonde hair sat at the window, twisting a blue ribbon in her fingers. The fair hair was smooth and delicate on one side and wild and knotted on the other. It looked as though the nursemaid had only managed to brush one side before the child refused any more.
Elowen’s gaze was fixed on something outside. It may not have been anything in particular. Perhaps she was just longing to be anywhere but within these walls. Liliana could not fault her for that.
“Miss Fenwick,” greeted Mrs. Shelley, ushering Liliana over to a dark-haired woman who appeared just a few years older than herself. “This is Miss Wakefield. She will be responsible for the child’s schooling.”
“It is my sincere pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Liliana said respectfully.
“Likewise,” Miss Fenwick said without emotion, looking Liliana up and down, as if assessing whether or not she was a safe presence with the child.
Miss Fenwick turned and went back to Elowen, murmuring quietly, “I shall return before long.”
With that, the protective young woman gave Liliana a nod that managed to convey her expectation and high standards before she departed from the room, leaving Liliana with Mrs. Shelley and Elowen Stanhope.
Liliana approached the little girl gently, noticing her pale, sickly pallor and deep, dark circle under her eyes that glowed a striking amber.
Such a small child to carry so much unspoken pain.
“Lady Elowen, I do not mean to disrupt you, but my name is Miss Liliana Wakefield,” she said, softly, keeping her voice calm and peaceful. She was unsurprised when the child did not respond.
Liliana clutched her bag and shifted, kneeling to the child’s level. She unpacked a few of her books and selected one bound in worn leather. For the briefest moment, she rubbed her thumb against it with a tug on her heart.
“This book is special, Lady Elowen,” Liliana gently told her. “It holds old stories that my father collected. My whole life, he was fond of stories. My favorite of them all is about a princess who learned to understand birds.”
Liliana eyed the child closely and watched as her fingers paused their twisting. Her eyes flickered toward the book for an instant, but it was so brief that Liliana might have missed it if she had glanced away for even a moment.
It was a small sign. Something to build on. Liliana hoped that it held some meaning. Even if Elowen was unaware of the fact that Liliana was there to help her. The smallest hint of interest mattered.
“Do you mind if I read a little?” Liliana asked.
Elowen didn’t respond, just blinked away and looked outside again.
“You may stop me at any time if you do not like the story,” Liliana said, before opening to the one she had mentioned. She took a deep breath, and then began to read.
“There once was a lovely princess. She had long, flowing hair that looked like sunlight. Her eyes were an enchanting deep amethyst, leading most people in the kingdom to believe that she had been blessed by fairies as a baby,” Liliana read.
Elowen’s face seemed to relax, the tension in her jaw loosening ever so slightly. It was clear that the story had already managed to engage her interest, which gave Liliana the confidence to continue.
“But the princess did not have a perfect life, as many might assume. In truth—”
A sound from the hall made Liliana pause. She could hear heavy, decisive footsteps and the hair stood up on her arms. Somehow, she just knew that those steps in the corridor belonged to none other than the Duke himself and although she was strong and had vowed not to be foolishly frightened by him, those steps were far more imposing than she had anticipated.
“It sounds as though we have a visitor,” she said to Elowen. Liliana straightened her back, pushing aside the momentary concern and regaining her confidence.
The footsteps ceased just on the other side of the door. With a creaking groan, the heavy oak slowly opened.
Chapter Two
Liliana assumed the Duke had come to check on Elowen as the storm raged outside, or perhaps he was curious about the new arrival. Liliana understood that he would likely want to ensure that his niece was being cared for by a decent young woman. He would need to properly interview Liliana, need to see that she was safe.
At first, Liliana peered toward the darkened doorway, but then she looked to Elowen, noticing that the young girl flinched and pressed back against the window seat. Her body was rigid and apprehensive. For Liliana, that was a foreboding sign. If even this child was frightened by her uncle, maybe the women Liliana had met at Trengill House had been correct.
The Duke entered abruptly, with the right side of his face cast in shadow. He stood, firm and strong, looking into the room with a strong, amber-colored eye. Liliana had heard he was disfigured, but since she couldn’t see the right side of his face, she didn’t know if he even had his other eye. Her breath caught when she looked at him standing there.
His physical presence was commanding and unyielding. There was no denying that he was an intense figure.
I have heard the stories. I have heard of his reputation. The Beast of Thornvale. But this isn’t a story or a reputation. This is reality…and the reality is stark.
His amber eye moved, intensely, from his niece, crouching with a shade of fear, to where Liliana sat, taking a deep breath and straightening herself once more, fortifying her courage.
His expression seemed to harden as he noticed how quietly she observed him. For a long moment, a mutual inspection passed between them, each endeavouring to determine the other’s true character. Unwittingly, Liliana’s heart began to beat faster.
It’s just a reaction to his forceful presence. A surprise when I thought it was all just rumor and mischief. It’s not actually fear getting to me. Just a reaction. I will not let him think he intimidates me, she thought to herself.
Liliana met his stare with a directness that she had learned from a lifetime of having to be strong. Her chin lifted slightly, determined in her resolve to remain bold and unafraid.
The Duke gave a curt nod toward the corridor.
Liliana immediately understood the unspoken command. She was supposed to follow him. She knew that she had no choice but to do as he wordlessly instructed.
It appeared that he intended to proceed immediately with a proper interview. She only hoped she wouldn’t betray her situation…or the fact that this was already turning out to be a dark and grave position with a broken child and a grim figure for a master.
***
Thaddeus heard the quick, graceful steps behind him. He wouldn’t turn around to look at her as they made their way through the dark corridor and up to the east wing. He felt her composed presence along the way.
Upon passing through the door of his study, he experiencedsudden relief, finding himself again amidst the familiar comfort of the large room, its walls brimming with volumes.
The expanded, mahogany desk dominated the room. It was his haven where he could sit and ruminate whenever the occasion arose.
The warm fire cast an orange glow across the room and Thaddeus ensured that he stuck to the shadows as best he could in order to avoid the staring, the fearful glint in the eye, or the outright horror that he usually received. But a glance back at Miss Wakefield left him uncertain.
He turned away again and paced before the blaze with mild agitation. This was different from what he was used to.
Why is she so composed? Something was amiss. It must be defiance, plain and simple. Perhaps she’s not showing discomfort because she’s disrespectful, he thought to himself, bothered by the lack of fear he sensed from her as she stood there, bold and sure. Almost confident.
The flames danced against her copper hair, making it shine. This too bothered him, although he couldn’t say why. It somehow made her less distasteful, more human. Less like a distant governess and more like a soul he had brought into his home.
Thaddeus felt the ache of his scar and the pain behind his eye. He stopped his pacing and turned to her, remaining obscured on the right side.
“Tell me,” he began. “What qualifications do you have that leads you to believe you are a suitable governess for my niece?”
She stood without flinching, her hands clasped formally across her abdomen, her back straight.
“I was schooled in all of the primary subjects by Miss Adeline Wetherspoon of Bath, who also taught the daughters of Lord and Lady Winthrop and the Duke and Duchess of Huntinmoore. I am sure they would attest to Miss Wetherspoon’s excellent tutelage. For Latin and Greek, I was given the extraordinary opportunity to learn from Reverend Colin Hughes of the Wayborough Parish, despite the fact that he usually only teaches young men. For French, my father insisted that I learn from Mademoiselle Marietta Dubois, who instructed Lady Trimble and Lady Collingridge,” she said.
It was an impressive background; he could not deny. He had never heard of Mademoiselle Dubois, but it was unique for a young lady to learn two languages from a reverend and he had, himself, attempted to acquire the services of Miss Wetherspoon, knowing her reputation for instruction. She could have been the best option for Elowen and teaching the girl despite her reluctance. Unfortunately, Miss Wetherspoon had passed away a year prior, after many decades of teaching some of England’s best and brightest ladies.
How was it that Miss Wakefield had been granted such an excellent upbringing and yet she did not amount to anything more than a governess now? Surely she could have secured a proper match among her class.She could have progressed further in life instead of being reduced to a governess in the employ of the Beast of Thornvale.Still, he didn’t want it to be obvious that was surprised by her education. The point was to gain her respect, not to express his own respect for her.
“So, you are well learned?” he asked, as if unimpressed.
“Yes, Your Grace. I must add that my father himself was a scholar. Outside of my studies, he instructed me further in literature and philosophy. While I understand that most gentlemen do not wish their daughters or wards to be taught philosophy, I do believe my education in the subject has enabled me to better grasp the methods which might be used to teach,” she explained, without having to be asked.
It made sense. Of course, her father was a scholar. That did often lead to confident children. Perhaps that accounted for her manner. But he knew there would be excuses forthcoming. She would stumble her way through her answers if he kept going until he found her weakness.
“And why do you expect to succeed in teaching my niece when others have fled from their post?” Thaddeus asked, his voice sharp, his skepticism bold. He didn’t want to simply say that the others had failed. He wanted it known that they had left with desperate hurry and feeling the weight of a necessary departure. He wanted her to know that he expected her to fail him.
Instead, Thaddeus detected the faintest hint of a smile on her face at that question.
“Because I do not consider the role of governess to merely be a matter of sharing information and expecting it to be absorbed,” she replied, steadily. “In order for a student to learn their lessons, the governess must first learn the student. Unfortunately, this is not widely taught to governesses as they are expected merely to recite information and for the children to repeat it—especially the daughters or female wards. But to learn is to understand, to grasp, and to explore.”
Thaddeus froze for a moment, having no response to such a well-thought argument.
Unexpected. Where had she come up with this sort of philosophy? How did she know what a student needs when society told them otherwise?
Steeling himself and determining not to show any sort of weakness, Thaddeus raised an eyebrow as if to question her. He still had one thing in mind that would help to throw off her defiance and let him test her true mettle.
Thaddeus turned fully into the firelight, revealing his full face. The discolored, tightened skin made ridges from his temple to his jaw. The Beast of Thornvale. In his full, gruesome glory.
Now. Let her see, he thought to himself.
He watched her reaction with studied interest.
To no avail.
There was no gasp, no flinch. She didn’t look at him with pity or fear or disgust. Her expression remained perfectly steady and her pale-blue eyes met his directly after a brief, assessing glance. Her expression betrayed nothing. No emotion, no interest, just awareness.
Her lack of a reaction was profoundly unsettling. She ought to have shown some sort of concern or horror or even sadness for him. All the rest of them had.
“You are here for one thing only and nothing else matters. Your sole task is my niece’s recovery. Teach her, encourage her, and help her to live in the world instead of in her grief. Your needs are unimportant in this task, as are your hopes. You have been hired for the purpose of achieving my goal in reviving Elowen and granting her a future. Do you understand?” he asked, harshly, ensuring his expectations were blunt and clear.
“Yes, Your Grace,” she replied with a simple nod, still standing in that confident, yet elegant manner.
“As I said, your wishes are unimportant in this task,” he reiterated, hoping to garner some kind of response from her. But she didn’t respond.
Break the silence, he urged, waiting for her to do something. Or leave.
But she did neither, instead forcing him to be the one to continue or conclude.
Thaddeus looked for any sign of fear in Miss Wakefield. Her facial expression remained unchanged, as did the posture of her hands, back and shoulders. Still, there truly ought to be something particular, ought there not?
Instead, he saw only her quiet resolve.
“You are dismissed,” he said, with a wave of his hand, turning away from her. Somehow, he felt as though he had just lost a battle. He had wanted her to be the one to flee, not that he would have sent her away. But he wanted her gone and that was all there was to it.
Miss Wakefield silently turned to leave. He listened to the delicate steps that paused once she reached the door.
“Lady Elowen requires patience and connection, Your Grace,” she stated, evenly. “Not merely instruction.”
Thaddeus opened his mouth to retort or even to scold her for the impertinence, but no words came. Miss Wakefield curtsied and left the room, closing the door softly behind her.
He stared at the closed door, at a complete loss for what to do next. Disturbed and unexpectedly curious, he replayed the entire encounter in his mind, trying to figure out where exactly he had gone wrong. What had he missed? How could he have thrown her confidence off balance so he could better distinguish what sort of woman he had brought into his home to instruct his niece? How had he not managed to break through that calm exterior?
Observant and impertinent. She is not the sort of woman I had expected.
The whole ordeal had gone quite contrary to what he had experienced before with the young ladies he had hired. Most of the staff had been around before the fire, or shortly after, when Thaddeus still had something of a heart left. But nearly everyone he had brought on since had departed immediately. Who was this young woman who defied his expectations?
Chapter Three
It would be Liliana’s first full day at Thornvale, taking Lady Elowen through her lessons and attempting to find an open door to the girl’s hurt and pulling her out from its depths.
She shrugged to herself. That was surely no small feat. Still, Liliana was confident she could draw the girl out.
Selecting a plain, grey wool dress, Liliana cocked her head to the side. Yes, this would do. It was her least conspicuous dress and would draw no notice from anyone within the household. It was perfect for keeping to herself and blending against the walls. With that in mind, Liliana dressed herself. She pinned her hair severely, even unattractively. At last, she studied her reflection, seeing to it that she looked quite the part of the stern instructor.
Liliana couldn’t help but smirk at the thought. She knew what the Duke expected. Her meeting with him from the previous day was vivid in her thoughts. He had revealed his scars deliberately seeking a reaction from her. He’d been looking for her to live up to his expectations of failure.
She had given him no reaction. And yet, the memory of his intense gaze remained. Those amber-colored eyes. The stern expression. The hurt bitterness that he couldn’t hide even as he tried to intimidate her.
But she refused to give him that satisfaction. She couldn’t afford to lose this post and there was no reason to be frightened of a man just because he was imposing and scarred. Besides, there was a little girl who needed help. A little girl who needed to let go of the pain she had experienced and to find real life somewhere in the world.
That was why Liliana had come.
I must find a way to reach the child today, she thought to herself, gathering her supplies. She picked up the volume of folklore, a sketchbook, and a fabric pouch filled with chalk.
Liliana thought that perhaps stories and images would work to brighten the child’s mind, where direct approaches from the previous governesses had failed.
There was a knock at the door and Liliana opened to see Mrs. Shelley standing there.
“Miss Wakefield, I need to instruct you on the schedule. You will be expected to adhere to it promptly and with respect to the hour. The Duke does not brook tardiness or laziness,” she said.
“Yes, certainly,” Liliana replied.
“Breakfast is at eight on the hour directly. Then, lessons take place until noon,” Mrs. Shelley told her. “His Grace requires a verbal report of the day prior to dinner at six exactly on the hour. You may address him in his study at five and thirty and be sure to maintain your report under ten minutes. He wishes for the most important successes of the day only and I recommend sharing three points of Lady Elowen’s improvement and three points which you are eager to continue helping her to improve.”
Liliana remained expressionless, listening to the instructions without emotion, despite having very strong opinions as to the structure of this report.
“Very well,” she said, knowing that she would have to find a compromise between her methods and what the Duke required.
“Lady Iris arrived late last night for a fortnight’s stay,” Mrs. Shelley informed her.
“Lady Iris?” Liliana asked.
“His Grace’s cousin. You may be introduced, but you needn’t concern yourself with her as you will be out of the way,” Mrs. Shelley said.
Stay out of sight or you will be considered bullish and impertinent, Liliana interpreted.
Lady Iris would be another observer. Perhaps that was her purpose in coming to Thornvale, to see how her niece was getting along after everything that had happened and with a new governess.
“In addition, I must inform you of Miss Fenwick’s report. Lady Elowen’s nightmares have worsened overnight. It is not an uncommon occurrence, of course. The anniversary of the fire approaches and it always strikes a chord of pain for both the child and the Duke. Not as if the Duke speaks of nightmares—simply that his mood darkens,” Mrs. Shelley said, adding the last part in a rush as if she should not have said anything about the matter to begin with.
It was the first time Liliana had seen a hint of real humanity from anyone in the home.
“Nonetheless, as I have mentioned, Lady Elowen had very poor dreams, so you may find her less agreeable today,” Mrs. Shelley said, returning to her stiff nature.
Certainly, the Duke will expect me to fail, especially now, Liliana thought. But it only pushed a further surge of determination. She wouldn’t allow him the satisfaction of seeing her fail.
The two ladies made their way to the nursery and Liliana readied herself for whatever the day might bring. Upon entering the nursery, she saw Lady Elowen sitting listlessly, her breakfast untouched. She did not look up when Liliana sat beside her, noting how frail and thin the child was, the dark hollows beneath her amber eyes.
“Good morning, Lady Elowen,” Liliana said, waiting a moment. Nothing happened and she decided to proceed.
“I thought I’d read to you a bit today. If you recall from yesterday, this book is filled with folktales that my father collected over the years. He loved stories. I love stories as well. Do you?”
There was no response.
“Well, if you don’t like the story, just tell me and I can try a different one. I know we began one yesterday and we can get to it another time. For now, I’d like to read this one. It is about a different princess. Princess Wilhelmina finds a hidden realm through drawings. It is a fascinating and exciting tale,” she said.
“Once upon a time,” Liliana began, “there was a kingdom covered in darkness. The darkness was bleak and frightening. No one in the kingdom believed the darkness would ever go away or that they would ever be free to enjoy their life together.
“Princess Wilhelmina had never known the kingdom to be any different. She had been born ten years to the day from when the darkness began. She’d heard whispers that the darkness had come after a storm and that a terrible old crone had cursed the kingdom. But no one had ever confirmed the tale and she never truly believe it.
“So Princess Wilhelmina tried to find ways to be joyful within the walls of the castle. It was difficult, with the gloom and sadness all around her. She longed for the fields of flowers that she had seen drawn in old books. Had the world really ever been like that? She wanted to know.
“One day, she discovered sketching supplies. Looking at the images in the books, she imagined the flowers and fields she longed for and she began to draw. At last, once she had finished her sketch of a stunning hilltop covered in long, green grass and dotted with purple, yellow, and orange flowers, Princess Wilhelmina held the picture in front of her gaze.
“Suddenly,” Liliana read with intensity, “the drawing began to shimmer and glow. The princess gasped.”
Liliana paused for dramatic effect and glanced from the corner of her eye at the young girl. Lady Elowen had shifted slightly and her fingers stilled. She was listening.
“The image shockingly grew before her eyes, until it consumed the entire world around her. The princess found herself upon a magical green hilltop, the bright flowers dotted all around her. She gasped with delight, throwing herself into the grass and inhaling the wonderful smells. It was miraculous. Beautiful. Delightful in every way.”
Lady Elowen’s lashes flickered for a moment and Liliana pretended not to notice. She thought she might even have seen a twitch at the corner of the girl’s mouth, as if she truly wanted to smile.
“Princess Wilhelmina spent hours among the flowers, enjoying every minute of the bright sky above, free from the miserable darkness. It was like nothing she had ever imagined before. All that she had known her entire life was falling away. Suddenly, life could be beautiful.
“And yet, she found that she missed her family. She wanted to return to them. But that would mean returning to the darkness. So, what could she do? How could she enjoy the brightness, but also be with her family?
“The princess devised a plan. She didn’t know if it could actually ever work or not, but she had hoped in her heart. She turned slowly around and cast her gaze behind her, where she spied a door which offered her safe passage back to her own world. She ran back in a hurry and the beautiful world vanished before her very eyes,” Liliana continued, still keeping a keen eye on Lady Elowen.
“The princess ran to her mother and father and urged them to gather the entire kingdom together. All the people came from far and wide, not knowing why they had been summoned. But, at last, they all stood before the young girl just outside the palace. The dark sky loomed overhead and all the people looked down and discouraged. Until…”
Liliana paused, hoping to build interest. She knew that the young girl was listening attentively, even if the signs were few. It was evident. Elowen wanted to know more.
“Princes Wilhelmina began to draw. She drew a striking picture of their very own kingdom. She included every home, every stable, every alehouse and inn. Everything in her kingdom was in the image. But so was a bright sky. So was lush, green grass and bright yellow poppies and amethyst-colored thistles and orange-streaked sunflowers. The picture had it all, the best of both worlds. And when the picture was finished, Princess Wilhelmina stepped into it.
“At first, the rest of the people in the kingdom hesitated, even the King and Queen. But, at last, a little boy decided to follow. He urged his family to come as well. And one by one, all the people came through. Now, they were able to live free of the darkness. One little girl’s creative mind had broken the curse over them all,” Liliana concluded.
For a moment, all was silent.
“Did you like the story?” Liliana asked.
There was no response, but she hadn’t expected one. Instead, Liliana placed chalks and a sketchbook before Lady Elowen.
“Here., I thought you may want to draw something from the story,” Liliana suggested, nonchalantly.
Elowen made no move toward the chalk and her face was turned out the window, but Liliana saw the girl’s amber eyes linger on the chalk for a long moment, as if truly desiring to see what might happen if she were to use it.
Liliana causally picked up a dark chalk and opened her own sketchbook. She gently began drawing the outline of a bird, tilting her head to one side as she tried to get the proportions right. She loved to draw, but it was not her greatest strength. She really had to work at it to make sure her images looked decent. Still, she rather enjoyed it.
“I do love the story of the bird and the tiger. I shall read that one to you as well sometime. This bird is a special bird, you see,” Liliana said, continuing her sketch.
“You may think me foolish for enjoying so many stories about magical creatures or events, but the bird in the story with the tiger is able to fly across the entire world to find the one thing tigers want most. Do you know what that is?”
Knowing she would not get an answer of any kind, Liliana still paused to let Elowen know that she was welcome to be heard whenever she desired.
“All a tiger wants in this world is a bit of warm milk. But why would a bird have to fly across the entire world to get warm milk? Isn’t it abundant wherever there are cows or sheep or goats or camels? Well, that is what we learn in the story. This tiger doesn’t want just regular milk,” Liliana said. “But I suppose that’s a story for another day.”
Liliana continued her drawing, not speaking for a while and letting Lady Elowen understand that silence was perfectly acceptable for now. The idea of putting any sort of pressure on the child made Liliana terribly uncomfortable. She could see how hurt this little girl was. Patience was the key.
The Duke ought to have known that by now. This was a little girl who had lost everything. How could he not understand that she didn’t care about lessons and learning? She just longed for her family.
Liliana knew what that was like. She knew that her mother had been taken too soon. And she knew that her father had been taken too cruelly. So, why shouldn’t this little girl get time to recover when her parents had been lost to the violence of a fire? She should be allowed to grieve. Liliana had barely been given that chance and she wouldn’t prevent another from it.
Lost in her thoughts, she nearly missed the moment when a shift finally took place. But Liliana froze, not saying a word, when a frail little hand picked up a piece of chalk and brought it to the open sketchbook.
Lady Elowen hesitantly, crudely, drew a wing. It was slow, but steady. She drew a mere three lines, but it was clear that it was the beginning of a wing and Liliana understood exactly why the child had made that particular choice.
With all of the sadness and pain she had endured, what child would not dream of flying around the world with freedom?
A surge of hope flooded Liliana, but she remained calm and continued to work on her own drawing. She watched Lady Elowen discreetly, not wanting to startle the child. Liliana continued on with her own drawing and looked up when Miss Fenwick returned to the room.
At first, she looked at Liliana with a wary eye, but her eyes widened slightly with surprise and restrained happiness when she saw Elowen with the sketchbook and chalk. Liliana smiled at Miss Fenwick, who met her eyes with a flicker of acknowledgement before she sat next to the girl.
Liliana’s heart sank when Elowen put down the chalk, but she knew that her time was finished for the day and Elowen had to go for her bath. Wordlessly, the little girl stood up and looked at Miss Fenwick, who took her by the hand and led her out the door of the nursery.
Liliana smiled as they walked out and then picked up the sketchbook. The wing was attached to a misshapen oval, the body of the bird.
Indeed, it was not much, but it was a start. And that was really all Liliana could ask for. A fresh start, a glimpse of hope. Perhaps things had not been miraculous, but even the eerie Duke couldn’t deny that it was the most progress any governess had managed thus far.
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I’m glad that you finished reading the preview of “A Governess for the Damaged Duke”. It will be on Amazon very soon!
